


The Golden State Wins Again

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: When Monty moves in with Nate Miller, his main worry is that he's going to be a bad roommate.It turns out he should have been worrying about being too good a roommate. His life doesn't need to be this great. It's bad for his mental health.





	The Golden State Wins Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



Monty can admit that he's a little nervous about moving in with Nathan Miller.

For one thing, he's never lived in an actual home with anyone other than his parents and Jasper, and those didn't really prepare him to live with anyone other than them. Living with his parents happened until he went to college and therefore was very much a childhood thing, and living with Jasper was too, albeit in a different way. Living with Jasper was an extension of living in a dorm, despite the increased responsibilities, and it was less like being an adult and more like being two kids in a trenchcoat, desperately hoping no one would notice that they'd conned their way into real life.

And maybe moving in with Miller should seem like an extension of that, given Miller isn't that much older than he is, but somehow, it's a big shift for Monty. It's not just another stepping stone before he's a person; it's being a person.

"Now I'm going to be a real adult," is how he explains it to Jasper, who snorts.

"Sounds fake, but okay."

"You're moving in with your girlfriend. That's real adult shit."

"And you're moving in with your friend's boyfriend's best friend. Is that a sign of real adulthood? Since when?"

"I don't know him that well. That means I want to make a good impression. And we're getting a new place, which means we need to set it up, and I need some new furniture and just--it's a fresh start, okay? You and me bought a bunch of cheap shit that's fallen apart by now and ruined this place so badly we probably aren't getting our security deposit back. And I knew that's what would happen! I knew this was how it would end up. But with Miller--"

"You're actually going to try?"

"We were a lost cause from the beginning. This time is going to be different."

He means it, when he says it, but he's also aware he doesn't really _know_. Miller is--confusing, honestly. Like Jasper said, he's not exactly a _friend_ , but they are friendly. They see each other a few times a month, at the most, and get along, but don't spend a ton of time together one-on-one. Which he thinks is probably the right level of intimacy to move in with someone. He and Jasper knew each other too well, and were too comfortable with just being slobs.

Miller, though. Monty wants to make a good impression on him. He wants to be the kind of adult who has matching plates and silverware, the kind of adult who has a shelf for every book and a case for every game. He wants to figure out how to clean a couch and schedule regular vacuuming. And he doesn't know if that's what Miller wants, but he hopes it is.

He's not _sure_ that's how it's going to be, living with Miller. But he can't wait to find out.

*

Miller is getting a new place because he was living with Bellamy and Octavia, and now Octavia is moving across the country and Bellamy had some sort of meltdown about it, during which he confessed his love for Clarke as some sort of bizarre, spasmodic coping mechanism. Clarke, of course, felt the same way, as literally everyone else in the entire world knew, and they're moving in together after about two months of dating, which would be too fast for anyone else but still manages to feel like it was too slow for the two of them.

All of which means that Miller needs a new place a month before Monty and Jasper's lease is up, so he's moving in before Monty. But Monty still feels like he should be involved, especially with the actual setup. He would be an asshole if he just let Miller do this whole thing by himself.

Which is how they end up in a UHaul to Ikea.

"I don't really have furniture," Miller is saying. He's more talkative than Monty expected, one-on-one. In group settings, he's the guy who stays quiet until he can deliver the perfect sarcastic comment, but now he's easy and smiley and chatty. He keeps emphasizing things with his hands on the steering wheel, too, which is equal parts stressful and endearing. "Not nice furniture. All our stuff is used shit Bellamy found on Craigslist. I'm pretty sure it's not worth the cost of a moving van."

"Yeah, me and Jasper got a lot of cheap stuff because we didn't want to pay for anything nice, but it turns out that if you can pay more, the stuff will last longer?"

"Life hack."

"Exactly. This is my second apartment, so I feel like I'm learning from my mistakes with the first."

"Yeah? What kind of mistakes are we talking about here?"

"Honestly? Living with Jasper. Not--I feel like you should live with someone who makes you feel, like, a reasonable amount of shame?"

Miller _smirks_. "Yeah? How much shame would you say I make you feel?"

Monty opens and closes his mouth. "Okay, that did not come out like it was supposed to. I just meant, you know. Jasper and I enable each other to be lazy slobs. I'm hoping me and you will have a better dynamic. If I left dishes in the sink with Jasper, I didn't care. But maybe with you, I'll feel bad."

"I guess that makes sense." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "So, if you ever get comfortable with me, we have to stop being roommates? That's what I'm hearing. You need to feel like I'm constantly kind of judging you."

"Just if you want me to be clean and mature."

"We'll see, I guess."

The weirdest part is that after that they go into Ikea and actually somehow _crush it_. Monty would not have identified Ikea as something people were able to crush, mostly just something they survive, but they're actually great at it. They identify things they need and get them, but it's more than that. They have _color schemes_ and a _design aesthetic_. Their apartment is actually going to look like someone purposefully put it together.

Which, to be fair, they are. But it's going to look like someone competent did that.

Bellamy, Clarke, and Jasper come over to help put all the stuff together and get it set up. Monty ended up getting stuff for himself, even though he wasn't planning to, because it seemed easier than getting another UHaul. His credit card bills are going to make him cry for a few months, but that's okay. Something was going to make him cry, this way it's something worthwhile.

Jasper volunteers to help him put the bed together, which gives him the opportunity to ask, "Are you moving in _now_?"

"Not _now_ ," he says. "But I could start moving stuff over. Maybe I won't even need to get a moving truck."

"You're really excited about this, huh?"

It's one of those classic Jasper guilt trips, the ones that make him feel bad as a knee jerk reaction, but then he's pissed once he actually thinks about it. 

"You're moving in with your girlfriend," he says, careful to keep the accusation out of his tone. "Aren't you excited too?"

"Yeah, but--it's the end of an era!"

"We're still going to be best friends. Just not roommates."

"It won't be the same."

The smart remark nearly makes it out of his mouth, but he keeps it in. He's not actually mad at Jasper for moving out; he's happy that he found Maya and that they're doing well. But he doesn't want to have to make Jasper feel like he's not being abandoned when Monty isn't the one who started this whole moving out thing in the first place. That's some bullshit.

"Here's hoping it'll be better," he offers instead, and as he hoped, it makes Jasper smile.

"Here's hoping."

*

Monty moves the last of his stuff in a week before his and Jasper's lease is up, and as soon as the last box is unpacked and Jasper has left, he starts to feel awkward.

What do you _do_ , when you live with someone? Are they supposed to hang out? He likes Miller, in a fairly limited sense, but he also doesn't really know Miller that well. They both like video games and drinking, but that's true of most of his friends. It doesn't set Miller apart.

There is something that _does_ set Miller apart, but it doesn't actually make things better, because it's this weird, squishy feeling in his chest when he looks at Miller sometimes, a familiar pang of attraction that makes him feel both warm and kind of awful. Because Miller is gay, and Monty is--definitely not gay. And obviously it's not like gay and straight are his only options, Kinsey made attraction a whole spectrum for a reason, but Miller is the first person who's ever made him really wonder, and that feels wrong. Like he's assuming that just because Miller likes guys, he might like him. Which he definitely doesn't, so any time his stomach wants to stop flip-flopping when Miller smirks, that would be great.

And, honestly, living with him will probably help with that, sooner or later, but on the first night it's one more overwhelming thing in a sea of overwhelming things. 

But it's not like it's going to get better if he spends his whole life hiding in his room, so he goes into the living room and turns on his Switch. He's got divine beasts to destroy, after all.

It doesn't take Miller long to join him, and he offers a smile. "I can switch this to handheld if you want to use the TV for something."

Miller holds up an iPad. "Nah, I'm reading. I just wanted to see what you were doing. Do you mind?"

"I assume we're going to be spending time together. We do live together now."

"We do. So, where are you?"

*

Living with Miller, once he's actually doing it, is almost scarily easy. Monty's been wanting to learn to cook, and Miller isn't opposed, so they sign up for Blue Apron for a free trial, until Bellamy finds out and tells them it's a waste of money when he can just give them easy recipes himself. He's actually pretty good at it too, and they bumble through it together, shoulder-to-shoulder in the kitchen, until they're good enough to divide up the labor, coming up with an actual schedule every week based on who's busy and who has something they want to try out. They figure out that Monty likes doing dishes, and Miller gets some weird, primal satisfaction from cleaning bathrooms. Monty vacuums, Miller dusts. And, okay, it's not like it works _all the time_ \--despite Monty's shame theory, there are plenty of days when he wants to wash dishes and then doesn't, and Miller doesn't seem to care--but it works so much better than Monty thought it would.

Mostly, it's that he _wants_ to keep the place looking nice for Miller, in a way that was much more difficult when he lived with Jasper. He and Jasper would get into these cleaning cold wars, where one of them was angry the other wasn't cleaning something, and then no one would clean it, out of stubbornness, and it just got worse and worse. It was like he and Jasper didn't know how to admit they wanted their apartment to be a nice place to live, so they just didn't, and therefore it never was.

But it's more than just cleaning. As much as Monty was happy for Jasper and Maya, it _had_ been getting a little lonely for him in the apartment. Not that he didn't like having time to himself, or that he didn't have friends of his own to hang out with. But he and Miller check in like he and Jasper never did, even before Maya. He goes to the store and asks if Miller needs anything; if Miller's working late, he texts when he'll be home. They spend their evenings doing things together, sitting on the couch watching TV or playing video games, heading out with mutual friends, going to movies. It's not that they don't have separate lives, but it's their default to be _together_.

It's great, but also _a lot_ , which is why he makes Clarke come to a brewery with him while Miller and Bellamy are at a Magic tournament and, after he's had enough beer to get to a place where he feels no pain, asks her, "How did you know you were bi?"

"You're bi," says Clarke, immediately, and he chokes.

"What?"

She flashes him a smile. "Sorry, I have this conversation a lot. If you want someone to affirm that you're bi enough, I can be that person. You're bi enough."

"I don't know what I want." He scrubs his face. "I think I have a crush on Miller? But it's, like--how do I know? How am I supposed to be sure about that?"

"Okay, well--how are you sure when you have a crush on a girl?"

He groans. "I'm bad at that too. I don't know. I'm not against being into him? I mean, okay, I am, a little, because then I'd have a thing for my roommate, and if it went wrong I'd have to move out, but it's more like--what if I'm not really into it?"

"First, breathe," says Clarke. "Second, what would you not really be into? Are you worried about touching his dick?

"Not exactly? I haven't really thought about it, but--" Now he is, of course, and it's not a bad thought, but it's as nervous and squirmy as all his other thoughts. It's not _worse_ than catching sight of Miller's lips and wanting to kiss him, or more overwhelming. Which is probably a good sign for his bisexuality. "I don't know. Maybe I'm okay with it in theory but it would freak me out if I did it. And I don't want to, you know--I'm twenty-five, I shouldn't be experimenting with my sexuality. I should have this stuff figured out."

"There's no wrong time to update your orientation," says Clarke. "It took me a while too. I did the stereotypical, like--get drunk, make out with girls thing, in college, and I thought that was it. Straight, but not when I was drunk."

"So what happened?"

"A girl asked me out, I told her that, and she asked if I'd ever tried kissing a girl sober. Turned out I still liked it." She cocks her head at him. "Have you ever been interested in a guy before?"

"Not, like--not a real guy. I think actors are hot? And real guys too, obviously, but it's not, like--I figured I just wanted to _be_ John Cho, not make out with John Cho."

"Can I want both?"

He laughs. "Yeah, that might be more accurate."

"Look, there isn't an entrance exam. You don't have to be sure, you just have to be honest. If you want to make out with Miller--" She pauses. "I don't actually know what to tell you there. Not because of the bi thing, because of the roommate thing. Hooking up with your roommate is pretty high risk."

"You hooked up with your best friend."

"And it took forever, because we were both afraid of fucking it up. We're not exactly role models, seriously."

"You are at least in a successful relationship."

"Somehow." She screws up her mouth, thinking something over hard. "Look, the label thing? Don't worry about it. It's easy to get caught up in that, but--you're going to find the right label for you, at some point. You don't need to be bi or pan or gay or whatever to have feelings for Miller. The fact that you have feelings at all probably means you're not straight, but--the feelings are the big thing."

"But it's so much easier to worry about a label than it is to worry about feelings."

Clarke laughs. "It is. But worrying about feelings might, someday, get you a boyfriend."

"Too unrealistic."

"I don't know. Miller's single. He thinks you're cute."

Monty chokes. "He what?"

"Yeah, when we were talking about you guys moving in together. He asked if Monty was _the cute one_ , and Bellamy said yes. So not only does he think you're cute, but he and Bellamy talk about it."

"And you never told me this?" he asks, still reeling.

Her unimpressed look is deserved but not appreciated. "What exactly would I be telling you? I didn't think guys thinking you were cute was something you were interested in. Now that I know it is, I'm telling you."

"The cute one," he says, with some awe. "Really?"

"You are pretty cute."

"Yeah, but--" He shakes his head. "Wow."

"It's still complicated," says Clarke, because she is something of a professional buzzkill. "But yeah. There's that."

*

Knowing that he is, in Nathan Miller's opinion, "the cute one" of Clarke's friends actually proves to be something of a curse. Because what does that even _mean_ , really? What kind of cute is he? Is he just cuter than Jasper and Wells? Clarke doesn't have a ton of guy friends, so if he's just the cutest one of them--

Then again, Bellamy also _knows him_ as the cute one. They agreed on this. Monty's actual brand is being the cute one. It's not a default position. It's a _title_.

And it seems like the kind of thing he should be able to work with, but he still hasn't figured out how. The last time someone told him someone else thought he was cute, in the romantic sense, he was in middle school, and it was Mary Allen's friend Tessa telling Jasper that Mary thought Monty was cute. Jasper told him to go for it and arranged a movie date, after which they were "dating," in the sense that they ate lunch together and never knew what to say to each other. At the time, Monty had worried that he was stuck in the relationship for the rest of his life, that he would actually end up marrying her because he didn't know how to tell her he wasn't interested, but luckily summer vacation rolled around, and by the time eighth grade started, they had broken up by default.

It was the best outcome at the time for sure, but it's not really an experience he wants to replicate with Miller. He actually _does_ want to date Miller. He wants to keep on going to farmer's markets and talking about maybe getting a cat or something with Miller, and if the only thing that changed in his life right now would be the addition of sex and changing one of their rooms into a bedroom, he would be more than happy.

Ecstatic, even.

He'd like to say he comes up with some amazing plan to share his feelings, or at least sucks it up and talks to Miller like an adult, but in truth, the universe takes the issue out of his hands at the farmer's market one Saturday morning. There's a stall with a rainbow flag on it run by two women that Miller always makes sure to make at least one purchase from every week, and this time they start chatting.

Monty has, on more than one occasion, thought that the two of them probably do come across like a couple, and if one of them was a woman, they'd probably get that assumption all the time. But heteronormativity does a lot of work to counterbalance that, so when the farmer's market woman asks, "And how long have you two been together?" it's actually the first time it's happened.

"A few months," says Miller, smooth. "We just moved in together."

"I thought you were new."

"Just to shopping for ourselves, not the neighborhood. I think my old roommate used to come to you too? Bellamy?"

Bellamy is one of those social anti-social people, who acts like hates everyone and complains all the time about having to interact with other humans, but he somehow still knows everyone, so it's no surprise that the woman knows his name. Miller catches her up on where Bellamy moved and how he's doing, and they get a small discount on their purchases, which only makes him feel a little guilty. Miller really is gay, and Monty is--still working through his labels, but he definitely likes Miller. He would be fine with the lie being true.

Miller doesn't say anything about it, and Monty doesn't either, but that's mostly because he doesn't know what to say. It's definitely _weird_ ; he and Jasper got that sometimes, but Jasper never just rolled with it. But it makes sense that Miller would be less invested in clearing up that he's not dating a guy than Jasper.

Monty's somewhere in between the two of them; he doesn't mind people making mistakes about whom he's dating, but he wouldn't actually lie about it. Or just roll with the assumption. He'd probably be really awkward about it.

Once they've put away all their produce and started in making lunch, Miller says, "Sorry for telling Niylah we're a thing."

Monty shrugs, poking the grilled cheese sandwiches he's working on with the spatula. "I don't mind. I guess I'm not sure why you did it, though."

Nate pauses in slicing up apples. "I feel like if I say, like, _oh, we're not together_ , it comes out like we're straight, and then I feel like I gotta add that I'm gay, and that's weird and awkward, so--Bellamy and I just gave up and went with it, but I should have asked you first."

"Did that happen a lot? To you and Bellamy."

"Not a ton. Usually if it was me and him and Octavia, people would think one of us was dating Octavia, so it was always kind of a relief when he and I came across as a couple instead."

"I guess that makes sense." He flips the sandwiches. "I don't mind if you just go with it with me, too."

"No?"

"I've been--" He has to take a breath. "I've been kind of wondering if I'm maybe bi?"

He's not sure what he's hoping for from Miller's response, but what he gets is a slight intake of breath and then, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm working on it."

"How do you work on maybe being bi?"

"I don't really know. I asked Clarke and she told me if I think I'm bi, I'm bi, and that I should focus on feelings, not labels."

"Sounds like Clarke. Doesn't sound like something that would help me."

"Nope. Feelings _suck_."

Miller laughs. "Yeah, they do. So--there's a guy?"

His tone is careful, careful enough that Monty doesn't know what he's being careful of. "Yeah."

"Tell me about him."

There are a lot of ways he could reply to that, and he's not sure what the best way is. They have a good thing going now, and telling Miller how he feels could screw it up. Even if Miller doesn't want to ditch him as a roommate, it might not be like this anymore, this easy, casual domesticity, the two of them working together, side-by-side, a team. It might not be shattered, but it will be damaged.

Or, it could go right. And Monty really doesn't like lying.

"He's--a friend. We've been getting closer recently, and it's making me think, I guess. I always thought he was, you know, attractive, but it's not like having opinions about what guys are attractive means you're into guys. But I think I might be--" 

He finally meets Miller's eyes, finds Miller is already staring, like he's trying to look directly into Monty's soul. Which Monty would be fine with, honestly; it would save him the trouble of having to say it.

"I really like him a lot," he concludes. "So, yeah, bi. Probably. Bi sounds right."

"Cool." Miller clears his throat. "If you're not talking about me, now would be a good time to say it."

"Do you want me to be talking about you?"

He lets out a laugh, short and sharp, and shakes his head. "Jesus, we're fucking pathetic," he says, and then they're kissing.

And it is a good kiss. A great kiss, even. Miller's hands are firm on Monty's jaw, and his mouth is perfect, and Monty's into the solidness of his chest and the faint stubble around his mouth and the way he can smell Miller all around him. It's almost too much, and he'd like to keep doing it until it he feels good at it.

Instead, he kisses back for a few seconds and then says, "Miller."

"Nate."

"Nate. The grilled cheese is going to burn."

That makes him laugh again. "Wrong time to talk about feelings, huh?"

"Right time to talk about feelings, wrong time to make out. But I don't think we have any plans after lunch."

"We were supposed to clean."

"I think it'll keep for another day."

"No shame now that you know I like you, huh?" Nate teases. "Guess this roommate thing might not have been such a good idea after all."

"Good thing we're not roommates anymore."

"We're not?"

"Nope," says Monty, flipping the sandwiches onto the plates Nate has already prepared with apples and potato chips on the side. He loves this domestic shit. "We're boyfriends."

"Huh," says Nate. "That does sound a lot better."

And Monty can confirm, it definitely is.


End file.
